


fall

by shannyan



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Abuse, But just a little, Human bill, M/M, Manipulation, Tattoos, Worship, also not that shippy sorry, fords thoughts and feelings are so important to me ok, i just wanna explain his shrine omg, journal 3 inspired, pre betrayal, very thought heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 09:05:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12339648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shannyan/pseuds/shannyan
Summary: Bill knows how to make people fall.(My exploration of how deep Ford fell for Bill's manipulation) (spoiler: deep)





	fall

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry it's so rough i've been writing this on the subway and got impatient and ended up posting it impulsively ;;
> 
> i rewatched some gf episodes and it looked like ford had that shiny pyramid thing before he approached fiddleford so ya this is all pre-fiddleford. i know journal 3 made it sound like ford and bill didn't see each other much but it also never talked about fords shrine to bill so i'm calling bs lol

Bill was an expert at getting people to worship him. 

Prove to them he's their superior, make them feel like the “chosen ones”, convince them that they want what he wants. Those were the major things, but there were also some nice little things he could try out. 

“You know,” he started, pausing before making his move in their chess game. “Besides that cute little symbol of me on dollar bills and those fancy ol pyramids, there are some obscure artifacts made by humans that are still around today.”

Ford lost whatever move he planned on making, taken by surprise. “Really? What kind of artifacts?” He had a fascination about the others Bill had chosen but he wasn't sure if it was appropriate to speak about. 

“Nothin nearly as fancy as what you've already seen. Tapestries, sculptures, buildings. Well, most of those have been destroyed by now, which is a shame.” 

And what happened to those who made them? “A shame?”

Bill’s eye curved into a grin. “I like having those around! I'm a busy triangle, I don't have time to watch all you humans. Marking important places with my image makes things way easier. When I look at those old artifacts I just see dark rooms and old dudes. I've been dying for a change in scenery! I’d take em back if I had a body here. I could possess a human and bring it, but blegh, I’m not too keen on being in those ol meatsacks.”

Ford blinked, trying to choose what to say. “What do you mean by dark rooms? Exhibits?”

“Hm, looks like they're for sale. Not too expensive, but not too desirable, since people in this dimension live in ignorance!” 

Bill went on about how funny it was how little humans knew about the dimension, which Ford usually liked to listen to, but he lingered on their past topic. If he got those artifacts, wouldn't that make Bill able to watch him? He had no idea how often Bill watched him but he assumed it wasn't often, since Bill always asked him what he's been up to. He liked talking about that, but having more of Bill’s attention was more desirable than having a conversation topic. 

His blatant desire for attention was embarrassing; he felt shameless, throwing money and time at Bill as if that would elevate him. He wouldn't act like this in front of any human-- he actively repressed this desire in front of others, especially his parents-- but there was an odd comfort in knowing that Bill was omniscient. There was no point in hiding what he wanted, how he felt. It would be so much more embarrassing to have the audacity to believe he could trick Bill into thinking otherwise. He reflected on the story of Adam and Eve, how they were punished, caught in their sin after lying to G-d. Perhaps they wouldn't have fallen from the Garden of Eden if they had properly confessed and respected him. 

**

He used some of his savings, some of his grant money to afford it. A gold plated statue of Bill stood on his desk (facing where Ford would be sitting), taking up valuable space, but Ford didn't care about that. In fact, his desk felt like an inappropriate place to put it, covered in coffee stains and spilled ink. He should get a pedestal for it. 

It took him a while to fall asleep. He was never one for daytime naps, seeing how he resented wasting time on sleep and usually worked himself to exhaustion every night. Today was especially impossible because he was so excited. But that excitement was precisely why he stubbornly stayed there at his desk with his eyes closed, trying to will his hyperactive mind to rest. 

It took some time but he finally arrived at the mindscape. He knew it right away because Bill was there waiting for him. “D’aw, for me? I love it! How nostalgic!” He shrunk down and sat on top of Ford’s head, petting his hair, and told him the history of the artifact. 

Making Bill happy-- Bill, the all powerful, immortal being- made Ford’s chest swell with pride. He never had confidence in his ability to understand others, to know what they want. He always failed at getting his brother Chanukah and birthday gifts. But here, now, he got something right, and he couldn't help but think he and Bill were made for each other! No, that was too self centered, Bill was more important than that. It's better to say Ford was fated to meet him. 

**

Ford had been stumped with a particular equation, mindlessly doodling a picture of Bill, when a thought came to him. Bill said he could see through anything with his image. Ford had initially sought for anything with that image, but he could much easily make his own. 

He wondered for a moment how his works would compare to others-- what if theirs were better? He shook his head and the thoughts away, reminding himself that Bill was simply a triangle and the artistic quality of any representation of him was probably irrelevant. All that mattered was that it was made. 

Ford grew up with religion, had his bar mitzvah and everything, but religion wasn't a very relevant part of his life. He always believed in a higher being, but no specific god. And if there were one, he didn't think they would have the time or interest to watch his mundane life. 

Bill hadn't claimed to be god, but his rhetoric was reminiscent of how a god was usually characterized-- all-seeing, all-knowing, all-powerful. 

It didn't matter if Ford saw Bill as a god or not. Bill was objectively a higher being, and was spending his time with Ford. Time probably wasn't of importance to an immortal being like him, but there were billions of humans living on earth at this time, and Bill chose him. He spent his entire life being judged by people smarter than him and took their word that he wasn't good enough. He was smart, maybe, next to his brother, but relative to the rest of the world-- no, relative to the people in that stupid science fair, he wasn't anything special. Stanley made him feel destined for greatness but that hope was crushed early in his life. 

All this time, he resented how it wouldn't just die. Was he so stupid he couldn't let go of his childhood dreams? Now he was grateful he didn't give up-- in fact, he felt superior for having not. All this time he had been right! He knew it, Bill knew it, and nobody else did. 

“For now.” he could almost hear his muse say, always so generous and understanding. 

**

He found that Bill had invaded his thoughts so heavily that he didn't even notice when he was thinking about him anymore. He had subconsciously bought a triangle paperweight at the store while he was buying supplies and didn't even think about it until he got home. He was a little uncomfortable with it, with himself, but he ended up leaving it on his bedside table, a flat side facing his bed. 

When he looked back through his notebook, he found that he doodled triangles and eyes all over the place, even when Bill was irrelevant. He avoided writing about his personal relationship with Bill in the journal, self conscious about how it'd read to future scientists, but it looked like that effort was futile. 

Bill wasn't confined by human constructs of politeness. He was sure if he annoyed Bill in any way, he would outright tell him. While that was daunting at first, it made him feel more confident over time. It made him trust Bill and feel more secure about their relationship. 

But all of Ford’s efforts proved to be worthwhile. Bill had gone from visiting him every few weeks to every few days and now it was almost nightly. Bill wasn't even helping him that much (Ford wanted to do as much of it as he can, he was proud of his work and took a lot of joy in his own progress) but just his presence made Ford improve. Their time together was intellectually stimulating and simply just made Ford happy. He always thought he didn't enjoy socializing but it turned out that he wanted too much from others. But not Bill. 

He wanted to write down everything Bill ever told him, document every encounter they had, but the thought of others reading about it, knowing about Bill and what he was like, made Ford feel oddly jealous. Possessive. Bill purposely didn't let himself be known by the public, he specifically chose Ford as somebody worthy of his presence, so Ford was in no place to spread his word. He did, however, feel an academic obligation to be honest about his process, so he mentioned Bill in his journal, tried to be as vague as possible. 

**

They were playing chess in the mindscape when the idea came to Ford and Bill’s eye lightened up. “Sixer, that's a great idea!” 

Ford cocked his head to the side, not getting him. The move he made was pretty normal. 

“A tattoo! I’d love to see that on you!” 

Ford’s eyes widened then he looked down. “R-really? It would be under my clothes though, wouldn't you be unable to see?”

Bill waved his hand. “Aestheticism! I chose this form because I knew it looked good.”

Ford blushed, his heart racing. There was no practical reason, Bill just wanted to see it on him. It made him feel cared about, valuable. “B-but where would I even-- I don't… want to do it in town. I don’t want them to…-”

“Know? Well that’s fine, you don't have to go to a professional. I can teach you- ain't it handy to be friends with someone who knows everything!”

Bill snapped his fingers and suddenly transformed into a human body, lanky and covered with tattoos, a bandana with an eye on it tied around his head, covering his face. “This is what they look like, right?” Ford wondered how he could see with his face covered, then rolled his eyes at himself for thinking something so dumb. 

“Okay, so here's how to works! First you disinfect it so you don't get any of that nasty bacteria in there-- the only one allowed in you is me!” Ford knew he was joking, but the possessiveness of such a statement and the innuendo in there made his cheeks heat up. 

“You sketch it first, then you get to the action.” He traced a triangle against Ford’s chest, making his breath hitch. He knew this was just a gag, but the intimacy with another human body was almost overwhelming for him, being the recluse he was. 

Bill wanted Ford to skip all the fancy steps and just carve a triangle into himself-- or better yet, let Bill do it. But Ford wasn't at that level of worship… yet. 

“Oh, maybe it'd be easier if I did it?” Ford stiffened. That sounded most ideal. He wouldn't be able to control the design of it, but who better than his Muse himself to be the one that decided? 

Imagining it happen made him shiver. It would be his own hands, but it felt like having Bill do it would engrave part of him onto him. He wanted to ask Bill to tape it for him, so he can watch it happen, watch if Bill reacts to the pain, examine how he treats his body, be sure that Bill was real and not something conjured by his mind. 

Ford bought the tools. Perhaps the process would've scared him if he hadn't had so many near-death experiences. 

He sat in his lab with everything in front of him and felt his vision fade as Bill entered him, focusing on his laughs that faded as he lost consciousness.

**Author's Note:**

> maybe I'll come back and edit this? 
> 
> next fic is gonna have an actual plot and gonna be something lighthearted!


End file.
